​Lyvana frowned slightly, checking her watch, but she headed down to the lobby.

When she got there, she met a well-dressed man standing near the large glass windows. He wore a sharp, tailored suit that looked expensive, and he held himself with a quiet confidence.

​He turned to face her and gave a polite nod.

​"I am Alaric," he said smoothly. "I apologize for dropping by without an appointment, but I believe we have matters to discuss that cannot wait for a formal invitation."

"Mr. Alaric. You’ve caught me at a very busy time. What could be so urgent?"

​"I think we should speak somewhere more private than a lobby," Alaric suggested, glancing toward the curious receptionist.

​Lyvana nodded and gestured toward the elevators. "Follow me."

Once they were inside her office, she offered him a seat.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Alaric?"

​Alaric placed the envelope on her desk.

​"I am a lawyer at Kline & Co." he began. "I represent a client who wishes to remain anonymous for the time being, but they have a direct interest in your current situation."

​Lyvana didn’t touch the envelope. She looked confused.

"Kline & Co. That’s a high-profile firm. Why would an anonymous client have any interest in me? And which current situation are you talking about."

Alaric leaned forward. "Someone has spent a lot of money to destroy you, Ms. Lyvana. They purchased a large amount of your latest clothing line and replaced it with cheap, fake copies."

​He paused to let the words sink in.

"They are planning to file a lawsuit against your company tomorrow morning, claiming you are scamming your customers."

​Lyvana shook her head, her face turning pale. "That’s impossible. We have strict quality checks. This cannot be true."

​"It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not," he said. "The goal isn’t to win in court. The goal is to create a scandal so big that your biggest clients will leave you. By the time you prove the clothes are fakes, your reputation will already be destroyed."

​He leaned forward, placing his hands on her desk.

​"They have hundreds of these low-quality copies ready. Tomorrow, they will show them to the news and say they bought them from your stores. The public won’t wait for a judge’s decision. They will just stop buying your brand."

​Lyvana felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

​"The contents of that envelope are sensitive," Alaric continued. "I suggest you use the information wisely, for your own good."

Lyvana finally reached for the envelope. Inside were photos of boxes filled with messy, cheap versions of her designs. They even had her brand’s logo on the tags.

​"Who would spend this much money just to ruin me?" she whispered.

​"Someone who thinks your success is a threat," Alaric replied.

​He stood up and straightened his suit jacket.

​"My client has included the address of the warehouse where these fakes are being stored. You have until tomorrow morning to find a way to stop them. After that, the news goes live."

​He walked toward the door, leaving Lyvana alone with the photos of the sabotage.

Lyvana continued to stare at the photos. The messy stitching and cheap fabric in the pictures were a nightmare.

​She grabbed her phone and dialed Julian’s number, but her finger hovered over the call button.

He was away on business. If she told him, he might drop everything and fly back.

​No. She had to handle this herself.

​She buzzed her assistant, Bertha. "Cancel all my afternoon meetings. And get me Marco, Lucille and PR. Now."

Less than three minutes later, there was a knock on her office door.

Marco stepped inside first, dressed in black as usual. Then Lucille and the PR manager followed.

Lyvana explained the situation to them.

Lucille picked up the photos.

"These aren’t yours," she said firmly. "Anyone with eyes can see the quality is trash."

​"The public won’t see that on a TV screen, Lucille," Lyvana replied. "They’ll just see our logo and a headline about a scam. We have to get to this warehouse."

​"It looks like a trap, ma’am," Marco said.

​"I know it looks like one. But if those clothes hit the news tomorrow, my company is finished. I can’t sit here and do nothing."

"A mysterious lawyer gives you a ’gift’ and an address to a dark warehouse? That is how people get killed, Lyvana. Julian would never want you to go there."

​"Julian isn’t here," she countered. "Marco, please. I just need to see if it’s real. If those boxes are there, I can call the police and have the warehouse sealed before morning."

"Fine. But I will check in with Lily, and send men over there. I cannot risk you going there."

"Lucille and I can go with them," Nick, the PR manager said. "We can check the goods if they are there."

"I can’t just sit here doing nothing. What if I come with you. I will remain in the car. I promise."

"No ma’am," Marco said firmly. "Julian will have my head if something goes wrong."

"Well I insist. I promise I won’t leave the car."

​"Fine," he agreed. "But you must stay in the car. If I give the signal, my driver is instructed to speed away immediately, with or without me. Do you understand?"

​Lyvana nodded quickly. "I understand. Thank you, Marco."

​It was almost dark when the three black SUVs pulled up near the address. The warehouse sat at the end of a dead-end street. It was a giant, rusted building surrounded by a high chain-link fence.

There were no streetlights here. Only the moon provided a pale, cold glow.

​"Stay put," Marco commanded. He tapped the window twice as a signal to the driver, then stepped out into the night.

Following his lead, a team of six security men moved silently toward the building. They moved like shadows, checking the corners and the roofline.

Nick and Lucille waited by the second car, their faces pale in the moonlight.

​"Clear!" a voice said over the radio.

​Marco signaled to Nick and Lucille. Only then did they move toward the small side door.

Lyvana remained seated in the back seat, her heart thumping against her ribs. She watched through the tinted glass as the group disappeared inside the building.